Hearing moms talk about how hard the first day of school drop-off is before you are a mother yourself is not much different than hearing about motherhood as a whole before you venture into it. By that I mean - you just can't relate. At least, I couldn't. Now that little Olive Bee is 2-days away from starting legitimate pre-school, I totally get it.
Last Thursday, Brett and I attended the official (no littles allowed) orientation. I was instantly impressed and inspired. The school is beautiful. Her classroom is engaging. Her teachers are delightful. The outdoor play area is enchanting (literally a mini version of Monet's Giverny). I was feeling so confident in our decision to choose this school. Then they dropped the bomb on me...the drop-off bomb:
Parents are not allowed to walk their child into school.
I wasn't sure how to process this. My heart started racing instantly. Brett saw the panic in my eyes. Pretty sure the teachers did too as they immediately began to give an explanation as to why this works better than in-classroom drop-off.
"It keeps the classroom a happy space."
"The children feel comfortable faster."
Yada. Yada. Yada.
All I know is that come Wednesday, when the teacher meets us at the car to take Olive inside - my child is going to think she is being abducted. Abducted by a loving and kind teacher, but abducted nonetheless. How do I prepare an almost 3-year old for this?
There does appear to be a loophole. If you're late, then it's your responsibility to walk your child inside. Though I am seriously contemplating being intentionally late, I am pretty sure it's frowned upon. I don't want Olive to be "that kid" and I frankly don't want to be "that mom", but I am completely terrified about what is to come at 8:45 on Wednesday.
I know that this is such a first-world problem. We are so lucky to have Olive and the love and joy that she brings to our family. We are lucky to be part of an amazing school that will enrich her life and teach her things that Brett and I cannot. I just wish my heart (and the giant knot in my stomach) would catch up with the rational side of my brain. It's a small piece, but it does exist. Sometimes...
I would love to hear from you, BURU mamas. Have you survived this? Did you feel like your were torturing your sweet baby? Help!
Here are a few things I sending with her to help with the separation...
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